


The Queen's Touch

by Olofa



Series: Her Heart [3]
Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/F, Ingridverse, Massage, her heart, ingrid would be such a sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:14:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8346601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olofa/pseuds/Olofa
Summary: After a long day of diplomacy, Elsa needs to relax. Faithful maid Ingrid offers a foot rub. To start with. Her Heart au, between Anything Her Heart Desires and Anywhere Her Heart May Lead. Elsa x OC. May contain feels, humour, Elsa backstory, tentative hotness.





	

 

Ingrid and Elsa were in the Queen's Bedroom, and Ingrid was helping her to get ready for bed. Elsa didn't even have to specify anymore. With varying degrees of resentment, resignation, or amused indulgence, the staff knew that when Elsa rang for a servant it was generally best to send Ingrid.

Elsa groaned as she rolled her shoulders, then her neck, trying to release the day's tension. "I'm sorry, Ingrid. I don't think I'm going to be very good company tonight."

"It's always a pleasure to be with you," said Ingrid. Elsa looked in her eyes to confirm what she felt. If anyone else had said it, Elsa would've shrugged it off as politeness, or even sarcasm. But Ingrid was simply sincere.

"You're sweet," said Elsa, cupping her hand around the back of Ingrid's head and gently pulling her closer for a tentative kiss. It was just a couple of weeks since Ingrid had kissed her under the mistletoe, and they were still learning how to be around each other. "Then let's say I'd be a lot better company if I hadn't had to spend days negotiating a three-cornered trade agreement between us, Allemand, and Svenland." She grabbed her right shoulder with her left hand, trying to squeeze the ache out of it.

Ingrid stood patiently behind Elsa. "You've done an admirable job of–"

"Not blasting the pair of them with a blizzard?" Elsa looked over her shoulder and smiled crookedly at Ingrid.

"I was going to say 'being diplomatic,' but I suppose it's the same meaning," said Ingrid. "If you wouldn't mind, um…"

"Oh. Right." Elsa let go of her shoulder, and Ingrid helped her off with her dress.

As Elsa stood in her slip and silk stockings, Ingrid kept her head down, focusing on folding and putting away. "If you like, that is if you wouldn't mind trying something, I might be able to help you relax."

"Why, what _ever_ do you have in mind?" said Elsa, putting on a sultry voice and smirking at Ingrid. Her smirk turned into a smile as she saw Ingrid blush prettily, even as she chided herself for teasing the girl. She touched Ingrid's arm and said, "I'm sorry. Seriously, what did you have in mind?"

"I could – I don't know if this sort of thing is done upstairs – I could rub your feet. It helps. I used to do it for my mother, and some of the girls downstairs do it for each other if we've been on our feet all day. I don't know if it'd be appropriate."

"Oh, Ingrid. We've been kissing and cuddling. I wouldn't worry about how appropriate it would be for you to touch my feet."

"No. Oh! No, I meant, as long as you don't think it's beneath you. Beneath your dignity. I'd very much like to do this for you, but it's… Begging your pardon, it's for labourers."

"More of a working-class thing?" said Elsa, gently. Ingrid nodded. "The day I'm too proud to take help from someone who cares, the day I think I'm too good for you or for any of my people, is the day you can take away my tiara and make me _your_ junior chambermaid." Ingrid faced away, then looked back at her with a shy smile. "Don't want to turn into Lord Washcloth."

Ingrid looked at her blankly. "I'm afraid I don't know who that is."

"Oh, of course not." Elsa chuckled as she sat on the divan and patted the seat beside her. Ingrid joined her, and she explained. "Papa always taught us – me and Anna – to respect all our people, and to have some common sense and respect for work. He told us about a visiting nobleman, Lord Something-or-other, who stayed here for a few days. I think he may have been from Weselton, I'm not sure. Anyway, the first morning he was staying here, he came out of his rooms complaining, 'There's something wrong with my washcloth! It's not sudsing up!' Well, Papa himself went to see what the problem was. There was nothing wrong with the washcloth. Lord What's-his-face, for his entire life, a servant always soaped up his washcloth for him, put tooth powder on his toothbrush and so on. He didn't know that washcloths don't come that way, and he didn't have the sense to soap it up himself." Elsa laughed, and Ingrid smiled. "So whenever I was getting full of myself, or starting to take people like you for granted, Papa'd say, 'Don't want to turn into Lord Washcloth!' " As she said that she pretended to be King Agdar, lowering her voice and booping Ingrid's nose. Ingrid's hands flew to her face in happy embarrassment. "So, let's give this a try." Elsa's shoes vanished in a puff of snowflakes.

Ingrid knelt before Elsa, sitting on her heels, and took one stockinged foot in her hands. The silk and the very slight dampness made it slippery-smooth in her hands. She rested the heel in her lap, trying not to think about how she enjoyed the pressure. She wrapped each hand in turn around Elsa's foot and pulled with gentle firmness from the heel to the toes. Elsa's foot was soft, uncalloused, her toes elegantly long and straight. Ingrid shifted her grip and ran the pads of her thumbs up the sole, alternating, pressing more heavily. Elsa moaned appreciatively. As Ingrid continued she felt Elsa's foot become softer in her hands, almost limp. She pulled on Elsa's toes with gentle firmness, pulling the tension out of them.

It felt uncommonly good to Ingrid – it felt _right_ – to be kneeling at Elsa's feet, to literally be under Elsa's foot. The more she felt that Elsa was above her, the more she felt uplifted by being with her, by being of service to her. Any service she could do for her queen made her feel honoured. As she switched to Elsa's other foot, she looked up at that beautiful face, even more beautiful in repose, at those heavy-lidded eyes, and knew that in that moment she would do anything her queen asked of her without a moment's hesitation. In fact, her heart longed for Elsa to command her to do...something, anything at all, anything that would give pleasure to Her Majesty.

Elsa's eyes focused again, looking at Ingrid. "Thinking of something?"

"Of how much I love to serve you," said Ingrid, bowing her head.

"You're sweet," said Elsa. She leaned back and sighed contentedly. "I had no idea you knew massage."

"I…do?" Ingrid blinked. "I'm sorry, I don't know that word."

"The ambassador from Svenland was going on and on about Pehr Henrik Ling, who's been teaching his _massage_ system all over Europa."

"I had no idea. We always called it 'rubbing.' Foot rubs, back rubs, neck rubs, and so on. I…" She smiled up meekly at Elsa. "I have a bottle of mama's special liniment, if you're interested."

Elsa smiled crookedly at her, eyes sparkling with amusement. "I am interested…in why you've been carrying that bottle around with you. Did you have this in mind all along?"

Ingrid tipped her head to the side. "In a manner of speaking. I've seen how tense those men have been making you, and I was hoping I could be of some help. I wanted to be ready."

Elsa leaned forward and stroked Ingrid's hair. "Your 'foot rubbing' was wonderful. I place myself in your hands."

Ingrid looked at her a little sideways. "Was that a play on words?"

"A little one," said Elsa. "Shall we begin?" She stood, shrugged off her slip, and began to take off her stockings.

Ingrid was too shocked to move until she realized, since she was kneeling and Elsa was standing, where her eye level was. "Oh!" She stood up and backed away awkwardly.

"I'm sorry, I thought that was how it was done," said Elsa. "That's how it was explained to me." _It's just a sort of treatment._ _It's scientific._ _It's practically medical_ , she thought. _Right?_

"It is. That is, it can be. I, um, it would keep the liniment off your nice clothes, I suppose." Ingrid kept her head down as she looked for towels and other necessities.

"Shall I lie down on the bed?"

"I'm afraid it wouldn't be firm enough. I might…it might bend you uncomfortably." Ingrid took the comforter off the bed, folded it triple, and laid it on the floor with a pillow at one end. She held out a towel at waist height, eyes on the floor again. "If you, um, if you would be so good as to lie down. Please."

Elsa lay on her stomach, and Ingrid draped the towel over Her Majesty's buttocks. She knelt beside Elsa and paused, her gaze caressing the gently rolling landscape of Elsa's calves, thighs, shrouded bottom, the symmetrical plateau of her back, slender shapely arms, the tender hollows of her palms, delicate fingers waiting to touch and be touched, to be held. Crowning it all was Elsa's unbound hair, spilling like liquid silver. Ingrid had glimpsed Elsa's body as she helped her queen dress and undress, but here they were, Elsa naked and patiently vulnerable, waiting for Ingrid's touch.

Ingrid gazed reverently. If she could've put her feelings in words, she would've said, _Oh Elsa, my queen, my demi-goddess._ _Fragile as a woman and lovely as an angel. Your beauty is proof that the divine can exist in this mortal world. If only you could know how blessed you are, and how your blessing blesses me. You fill my heart with joy and gratitude. You even make me believe I'm worthy of you. Thank you._

"Ingrid?" said Elsa. "What is it?"

"You're very beautiful," she said quietly.

Elsa lifted her head off the pillow and turned to face away. "Thank you." _Is this a massage or something more? If it is, is that good or bad?_ She took a deep breath, and released it. _This is Ingrid. Whatever it is, I trust her._

Ingrid unstoppered the little bottle and poured a small amount in her palm, letting it warm up before she spread it across the backs of Elsa's legs. Her hands were slippery as they glided firmly along Elsa's calf, freeing the tension caught there. A cool floral smell laced the air. "It smells lovely," said Elsa. "What's in it?"

"It's not proper liniment," said Ingrid. "It's mostly sunflower oil, peppermint, wildflowers. My mother makes it. Sometimes I think she only does it to make papa smell nice."

"Thank her for me."

Ingrid began to rock back and forth as her rubbing – her _massage_ – moved farther up and down Elsa's leg.

"Ohh, that feels wonderful," moaned Elsa. "Mmmmm."

Diligent and thorough, her strokes moved gradually upwards from calf to thigh until her fingertips were nearly brushing against Elsa's cleft. She even thought she could see a few stray curly hairs at the top of Elsa's thigh, their paleness darkened by moisture. A wave of heat washed across Ingrid's face, as if she had opened an oven door. She sat up, straightening her back, and went to work on Elsa's other leg.

Moans slipped from Elsa's lips in time with Ingrid's firm strokes. She could feel the resistance leave Elsa's muscles as her grip followed the graceful curves under her hands. Tiny droplets of oil shone like dew on the almost invisible down on Elsa's legs.

She tried to focus on kneading the tension out of Elsa's thigh, but a different kind of needing was demanding attention. Was it her imagination, or had the queen's thighs parted slightly? Her own thighs squeezed tighter together in response. Was she seeing things, or was there a wet sheen under that towel that didn't come from a bottle of liniment? A curiosity that bordered on compulsion drove her fingers ever closer on each stroke. She could just lean a little farther forward and feel for herself if it was so. She could lean a little farther and see if a finger could slide inside –

She stood up, stretched out her back.

"Ingrid?" came Elsa's voice, blurry with relaxation and with the pillow pressing against the side of her mouth.

"Changing position," said Ingrid.

"Mmm, good."

Ingrid warmed more oil in her palms and anointed Elsa's back, shoulders, and neck. She began by pressing with her fingertips on either side of Elsa's spine, running upwards from base to neck.

"This is heaven," said Elsa.

"Thank you."

"Do you think... Do you think Anna would ever do this for me?"

Ingrid thought. "Perhaps."

She worked in silence until Elsa asked, "Do you think she'd ever let me do this for her?"

"Perhaps," said Ingrid, as her hands moved up and outward, tracing ovals across Elsa's back.

Elsa's voice grew louder and softer as Ingrid pressed air out of her lungs. "Don't worry, Ingrid. Push harder."

It was awkward, applying pressure while kneeling at Elsa's side, so after a moment's hesitation Ingrid hiked up her skirt and straddled Elsa. As she kneaded the tightness out of Elsa's muscles, Ingrid rocked forwards and back. As her hands drove forwards, not fully realizing what she was doing, her thighs tightened around Elsa, and as she leaned back she sank some of her weight on the towel that separated her from the soft smooth globes beneath. A part of her noticed that Elsa's hips were moving in time with hers.

"MmmmMMMMmmmmMMMMmmmmMMMMmmmm." Elsa's moans joined into a single thread, modulating with the pressure. Ingrid felt the stiffness drain away under her hands as she kneaded the muscles under that pale perfect skin. She leaned farther forward, her legs clenching more firmly to keep her balance, as her delicate strong hands massaged Elsa's shoulders, biceps, and finally her graceful neck.

Elsa's voice changed. The smooth thread was breaking up, punctuated by sniffles. Ingrid paused. _Is she – sobbing?_ In an instant she dismounted and lay down next to Elsa so that she could talk to her. "Elsa, are you all right? Did I hurt you? Do you need help?"

Elsa smiled weakly at her, tears running sideways down her face. "I'm fine, Mouse. I'm – " _sniff_ " – fine."

Ingrid pulled stray hair off Elsa's face, stroked it smooth. "Is something the matter? Can I help?"

"You're already helping." Elsa blinked tears out of her eyes. "I – " She took a deep breath and sighed heavily. "It feels so good. To be touched. I spent so many years not touching, not being touched. I missed it. Even now, people hesitate."

"Well, you _are_ queen."

Elsa chuckled softly. "That's true."

"Anna loves to hold you. I lo– I enjoy touching you, or when you touch me. I do."

"With Anna, it's still a little awkward. She pretends it isn't." Elsa blinked. "When I was little, right after the, you know."

"The accident."

"Yes. I allowed myself one hug and a kiss per day. With my mother. I never touched father again. Sometimes I would have to wait all day until I was sure I was in control enough not to – " _sniff_ " – not to hurt her. And I made her promise to pass it along to Anna, because I couldn't dare hug her myself. Not after what I'd done."

Ingrid stroked Elsa's hair again. "I'm so sorry. But at least you had that. It must've been some comfort, even if it was just a little."

"I _hated_ it, Mouse. I hated myself. I was too weak, too needy, to give it up." She didn't sob, but her tears returned, stronger. "It was years until I had the strength to deny myself. And then they were gone, and I'll never hold them again."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for bringing those memories back."

"No, it's good," said Elsa, her wet eyes crinkling as she smiled warmly at Ingrid. "I can talk about it now. Thanks to you. Thank you."

"Just a moment," said Ingrid as she sat up. She always tried to hold herself back, to do the right thing, but there were moments she had an instinct too strong to ignore. In an instant she had stripped to the waist, then lay back down again, pressing her skin against Elsa's naked side, her arm around Elsa's shoulders.

"Ingrid?" said Elsa. "What – Did you want to, um…"

"If you mean what I think you do, then yes. Very much. When you're ready. But for now I think you simply need to…feel someone next to you. Please, let it be me, for now. For you."

"Yes. Mouse." Their voices were quiet, like children talking in bed.

"You don't have to say anything. You can close your eyes if you like."

She did. "What if I fall asleep here?"

"Then I'll lift you into bed."

"You can't do that."

"I'm a farmgirl from Lillefjord. I think I can manage."

Elsa sighed. "There was a story. Not a story, exactly. People used to believe that the touch of a king or queen could cure disease. It was called The King's Touch. Or The Queen's Touch, I suppose, but I never read about that."

"And you?" said Ingrid, her breath brushing softly against Elsa's cheek.

"No, not me. I think you must be descended from royalty, Mouse. You have healing powers."

"I – " Ingrid was going to deny it, but Elsa was so happy and relaxed, so at peace, she didn't dare disturb her. "Thank you, my queen. Thank you, Elsa."

Elsa had already drifted into sleep. Ingrid had promised to hoist her onto the bed. And she would have to return to the room she shared in the servants' quarters, or risk raising comments. But for now it felt right to stay where she was, for Elsa and for herself.

And so she stayed.


End file.
